


stuck on a puzzle

by cedricsboyfriend



Series: hedric shorts [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hermione and Ron are here by mention, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23909389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedricsboyfriend/pseuds/cedricsboyfriend
Summary: another tumblr short. more recent. enjoy!
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter
Series: hedric shorts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688842
Comments: 4
Kudos: 95





	stuck on a puzzle

The first toy Harry had ever received was a Rubix Cube that Dudley had thrown away during his tenth birthday party. His cousin didn’t seem to find it as fun as the other thirty-something presents leftover (which were much _easier_ to play with), so when it skittered to the doorway of the cupboard underneath the stairs, Harry immediately grabbed and hid it under his pillow without thinking; lest Mr Dursley take it from him anyway.

It took one month to solve a single side, a week for the next and then less than a few days for the others as he spun and adjusted the clacking pieces in his bedroom constantly—there was lots of free time to be had between doing all of Dudley’s chores. Eventually he had it down to an art, the steps of the white cross, of changing corners and completing the layers memorized inside his head by the time he had turned eleven.

“That’s amazing!” said Ron, the first night they shacked up in his little room within the Burrow. Harry smiled but shook his head, “You’ll get it faster than me,” he said. And Ron did, but when he tried to return the favor, he could never teach Harry to just... _get_ Wizard’s Chess in the same way he always had.

In their third year, it was Hermione who witnessed Harry beat his record, “I could never solve these,” she murmured, half-heartedly twisting a side. But Harry took the cube from her hand and quickly shuffled the colours around again;

“‘Course you can,” he insisted, and he began to do it in a slow way, over and over again until eventually, Hermione could do it too. But when she tried to return the favour, teaching him the trick of how she memorized and absorbed information from her many books; Harry found that he had sadly forgotten the first step after a few days.

In fourth year, he met Cedric Diggory, a well-mannered and smiling boy who stood tall and handsome against the others; striking in ways Harry could not admit.

He knew, just by looking, that everything about him—from the way Cedric clenched his jaw to the angle his head would twist—everything was by careful design; body language befitting a writer’s script, as if every inch of him was conscious of constant surveillance. 

It was in the polite smiles that were a little harder on his eyes, and the way it looked like Cedric had cut his lips into that shape, time and time again. It was in his rigid posture, being surrounded by the many boys and girls in the courtyard, which made Harry wonder if those people had all been there from the start and—again, he’d never admit to watching so close—it was in the way, Cedric held Cho when they waltzed during the Yule Ball; his movement and gaze so sure, _gallant_ even, and yet the hand that held the small of Cho’s back, trembled in a rhythm quicker than the dance or song.

There was a part of Harry intrigued, which led the rest left wondering, when Cedric proved true to expectation. But there was more to it, so much _more_ , so much colour yet to see, too.

It didn’t take much to unlock more of him, after the tournament’s final trial—but it took Harry no closer in solving the puzzle. He only reached further into Cedric’s depths.

 _Now,_ Harry knew that on most occasions, Cedric was about three-fifths of the laughter that came barreling out his stomach because when he _really_ got going: his nose scrunched and his eyes watered and it was a tiny bit unbecoming if a rather lovely sight as well. He knew that though his fingers were slender, a skillful flex away from tapping into wisps of magic, Cedric’s handwriting was awful; and everyday, you could accurately guess how gleeful he felt just from how high his ears raised.

Always, Cedric looked sullen when he hadn’t much sleep and his face would get in this way where it wore like a gaunt, pale mask; specifically when the days of cleaning and the nights spent spying on the Order of the Phoenix went too long, and _oh,_ also after he slept through nightmares.

 _Especially,_ after the nightmares.

Harry didn’t know whether this was true before, but _now,_ Cedric scared easy. He would hesitate walking into Grimmauld’s rooms alone. He would also cry quietly, so quietly that you’d never notice it, even from five feet away.

When he got nervous, he’d fall into deep into thought and you’d always know when this happened, because Cedric would press the knuckles of his hands to his lips, and the grey’s of his eyes would glaze over like he was staring at the horizon through the walls.

But always, _always,_ Harry would bring him back. And Cedric would smile in this… _warm_ way, every time Harry walked by and handed him his cup of tea.

Harry never thought that something as trivial as solving a Rubix Cube would come as handy as Ron’s mind for strategy or, Hermione’s for raw knowledge. It was a party trick, something so easily taught and handed down that proficiency wouldn’t matter. 

But every time he’s gotten it right; used the warmth from his hands to dry Cedric’s eyes, made Cedric smile in that way, pulled him out of his head, deciphered the cryptic scrawl of his letters... every time Harry solved one of Cedric’s ‘side’s, something bristled inside him, like pins and needles—electric in a way, but pleasant too. Delightful.

The colours would shuffle up, of course, and there were always more sides to go, each with different tricks; but Harry guessed that _solving_ this particular puzzle wasn’t the real point. He was content to try and figure Cedric Diggory out, for the rest of his life.  
And in that same way, Cedric felt glad that he was being seen—truly _seen_ , for the rest of his.


End file.
